


bring it together

by PunkHazard



Series: Sol [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Food Service, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-04 23:06:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11000895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkHazard/pseuds/PunkHazard
Summary: Having a few hours in the morning to acclimate to the cold and drag himself out of bed is nice, but Lúcio’s pretty sure that he’ll never truly adjust to Manhattan winters.





	bring it together

Having a few hours in the morning to acclimate to the cold and drag himself out of bed is nice, but Lúcio's pretty sure that he'll never truly adjust to Manhattan winters, the lowest temperature Rio's ever dipped to in his lifetime something like 15 celsius, which was already almost unbearable. (Incidentally: he never thought he'd miss _the metric system_ , but in hindsight 'Ten degrees doesn't sound too bad' could have been the most naive thing he's ever said in his life.)

He shuffles through the restaurant's back entrance, collar of his coat pulled up over his nose. Upon actually reaching the locker room, Lúcio pauses at the door, silently regarding the lone figure shrugging out of a white chef's coat, yawning as he scratches the back of his head, mussing a shock of green hair. Genji turns around when he hears Lúcio unzip his coat, his expression breaking into a skewed grin.

"Hey," says Lúcio as Genji steps closer, laughing as he's corralled into a corner of the changing room, strong arms curling around his waist under his coat. "Just getting out?"

"I am finished for the day," Genji confirms, giving him a routine peck on the lips before bending down, burying his nose into the skin of Lúcio's neck. "You're closing?"

"Yeah. New guys're still in training."

"Closing is hell," Genji mumbles, his hand sliding past the small of Lúcio's back to slip into his rear pocket, squeezing lightly through stiff denim. "Wake me up when you get home," he whispers, "maybe we can have an hour or two before I leave for work again."

Curling his arms around Genji's neck, Lúcio grins. "Nah," he answers, voice hitching as Genji presses flush against his body, "I'll let you sleep."

"Who needs sleep," Genji gripes, arm tightening around Lúcio. They rarely see each other lately, Sol busier than ever with Hana's crew filming there, people desperate to catch a glimpse of her or make a cameo on the show. They didn't have much time off to start with, but Lúcio would be lying if he said he didn't like to see Genji asleep-- vulnerable and soft the way he never is awake, sometimes drooling on the pillow; all the effortless cool he maintains throughout the day sloughed off and set aside.

" _You_ need sleep," Lúcio says as a hard thigh slides between his legs, metal lockers cool against his back. "If you're tired, you'll cut yourself. And you're so cute when you're asleep, gatinho."

"'M not."

Squirming a bit, Lúcio shifts and taps him on the shoulder. "Nn, Genji."

Genji hums, hands traveling across Lúcio's body with the easy confidence that comes with familiarity, mouth working at Lúcio's shoulder where he's pulled the collar of his shirt aside. 

"Genji," Lúcio says again, more urgently. He makes a tiny sound from the back of his throat when Genji squeezes his sides, thumbs prodding at his obliques. 

"Don't rush me," Genji snipes back, teeth closing lightly on Lúcio's shoulder.

From behind him, Gabriel clears his throat.

Lúcio laughs as Genji's entire body freezes and he reluctantly backs away, taking a moment to straighten Lúcio's shirt and pull his jacket back up to his shoulders before turning and facing Reyes. "Chef," Genji says, hands clasping behind his back. He's known Gabe since he was a bottom-rung linecook, his and Hanzo's fast, precise knifework catching Reyes's attention. Gabe had watched out for them over the years, pulled some strings to get the Shimada Group off their backs, securing their loyalty and support. He's dealt with the Shimada brothers through the entire turbulent duration of their transition into cooking and beyond.

"You clocked out?" Reyes asks, one dark, grey-specked eyebrow cocking.

Genji ducks his head. "Yes chef."

Eyeing Lúcio, Gabe sizes him up briefly before he sighs. "You clocked in yet?"

"Not yet, sir."

"You two," Reyes growls after confirming that they're not wasting company time, "need to not do this in the changing room." 

"If you gave us the same day off once in a while," Lúcio drawls while Genji seems to be praying for the floor to open up and swallow him whole, "we wouldn't have to."

Gabriel seems to consider that, the corner of his lip twitching into the faintest impression of a smile. When he was younger Genji wasn't shy about having flings with coworkers and customers, but after a fight with his brother that'd landed him in the hospital for weeks he'd calmed down significantly, toed the line, focused on his work. Gabriel can't say he particularly misses the Genji who'd caused him so much trouble, but whatever rebellious fire he'd suppressed after the incident seems to have rekindled with Lúcio's influence. "Next week," Gabe finally says. "Keep it together until then."

"Yes chef," Genji answers.

"Thanks, boss." Lúcio waits for Gabe to leave before he turns to Genji, a crooked grin on his face. "So that happened."

"I wish he had just stabbed me instead," Genji says, ducking down to press a kiss to Lúcio's forehead and scramble back to his locker to pull on a jacket. "It would've been less painful."

"Get some rest," Lúcio tells him, jumping slightly to wrap both arms around Genji's neck and squeezing him, as if whatever warmth he has left will keep Genji toasty for the fifteen-minute walk back to their apartment. "I'll see you later."

"Good luck today, Lúcio."

* * *

Lúcio trickles into Reyes's condo well after the rest of his roommates, his nose and ears stinging from the cold. Front of house necessarily closes somewhat later than the kitchen, customers often staying long after the chefs have cleaned and packed up. He pauses at the table, where a plastic-wrapped plate of curry and rice sits, and smiles at the post-it note stuck to it: _Lúcio's_. 

Genji always cooks when he's home first, usually simple and fast things that can be left simmering on the stove while he showers, and then eaten with rice. He didn't used to, as evidenced by the time Hanzo came home, stared at him and asked 'who are you and what did you do with my brother?' the first time he saw Genji preparing dinner for the entire condo. Genji'd confessed afterward that he just wanted to make something for Lúcio, but felt rude neglecting the rest of their roommates and it eventually became a habit.

(Incidentally: Lúcio has no idea how he's managed to survive twenty-six years without a rice cooker, but if he and Genji don't work out he's prepared to fight a custody battle for it.)

He heats the plate in the microwave, eats quickly and ducks into the bathroom, free game now that the rest of the apartment's turned in. After his shower Lúcio dashes to the bedroom (Genji's originally, both of theirs now) with nothing but a towel around his waist. It might be the sound of the door opening, the click of it shutting, his steps dragging along plush carpet, maybe his breathing-- whatever it is, Genji stirs.

"You're back," the lump in bed mumbles, turning the corner of the blanket and rolling over to make room. A sleepy grin breaks across Genji's face as Lúcio's weight settles on top of him, one hand finding a bare hip and pulling his towel away. Lúcio shifts, a laugh bubbling up in his chest as Genji's other hand very deliberately lands on his knee, fingers curling behind it. He feels the exact moment Genji realizes that there's a naked DJ on top of him, the pause in his breath as Genji inhales and doesn't breathe out.

"Did I wake you up?" Lúcio whispers back, reveling briefly in the sensation of Genji's hands traveling over his skin, the soft material of expensive sweatpants against the backs of his bare thighs, that appreciative growl reverberating through a broad, muscular torso. "We can go to sleep if you're tired."

Genji flips him over so abruptly that Lúcio's head spins, pressing him into the still-warm mattress. He moves _way_ too fast for a man who'd woken up thirty seconds ago but Lúcio decides not to point it out, too busy trying not to laugh as Genji's shirt flies across the room and their hands find each other's; lips descend on his neck in a slow, wet kiss. "Let's pick up where we left off," Genji says, teeth grazing feverish skin as Lúcio gives in the to impulse and cocks his head back, spine arching off the mattress to press himself flush to Genji's chest, his shoulders shaking with unsuppressed laughter.

He sighs, relaxing into the sheets as Genji works his way down, pressing a string of kisses along the midline of his torso. "Genji," he says softly, grip tightening around Genji's hand as the other man's fingers loosen. "Genji," he repeats, pulling him back up.

Obligingly shifting to settle between Lúcio's thighs, Genji lifts their clasped hands and presses a kiss to Lúcio's knuckles. "Yes?"

The only source of light in Genji's room comes through half-drawn blinds, the busy street outside. It's enough to make out his features (sharp), his posture (relaxed), his expression ( _starved_ ).

Lúcio falls back with a sigh. "Don't wear yourself out, alright?"

"Me?" Genji drawls, hips grinding forward, slow and languid. He releases Lúcio's hands and braces one of his own by the smaller man's shoulder, the other dipping between their bodies. Genji huffs, laughing softly at Lúcio's gasp, the way he bucks for friction against strong, deft fingers, weight anchored on the knees hooked around his waist. "Never."

They move together, Genji's breath hot and fast against the shell of Lúcio's ear, Lúcio's arm hooked around the back of his neck, holding him in place. 

Lúcio cants his hips until the familiar callus at the base of Genji's index finger catches, just so. He inhales sharply, nails digging into the hard muscle of a bare shoulder. " _Genji_."

"Oh?" Genji looks up at him through long, dark lashes as Lúcio's arm drops from his neck, a crooked grin stretching across his face at the sight of Lúcio's hands fisting into his sheets. "Did you like that?" he asks, a note of genuine curiosity in his voice. He'd always picked at that callus, formed from holding a knife for hours on end each day, and the thought of associating it with that particular tone of Lúcio's voice might come back to bite him. Not that he's complaining. Genji shifts, just far enough to take in the sight of Lúcio sprawled on his back, skin slick with sweat, slats of light from their apartment window streaking across his lean chest as cars pass below. "I will keep it in mind for the future."

Staring back through half-lidded eyes, Lúcio allows his knees to fall wider, wets his lips and watches Genji move again, hand stroking in time to each hard grind high on the inside of his thigh. Sensation builds gradually, in waves, Genji alternately easing off and pressing on, an expression of smug accomplishment on his face as Lúcio's breathing grows more ragged, his legs gripping tighter around Genji's waist. " _You,_ " he hisses, head pressing back into his pillow as his hips surge up, chasing Genji's hand as it pulls away, "you _tease_."

"Relax," Genji retorts, gently extricating himself from between Lúcio's knees and crawling down his body. He flashes an impudent grin as he stretches out on the mattress and replaces his hand with his mouth, wet heat and long strokes of his tongue tipping Lúcio neatly over the edge. 

He doesn't hear much with Lúcio's thighs wrapped in a vice grip around his head but he can feel the soft moans vibrating through the smaller body, hitching, unsteady gasps. Genji closes his eyes, pulling back just enough to breathe as Lúcio rides out the waves of pleasure breaking over him.

It isn't long before he falls back, boneless and spent, gasping for air. Genji wipes his mouth as Lúcio releases him and he pulls off, taking a moment to catch his breath now that he's not being strangled by a pair of muscled thighs (not that he'd minded in the least). 

"Hey," Lúcio murmurs, chest still heaving, watching Genji run his tongue across his teeth, "now you? You want me to...?"

Genji sits back on his haunches, one hand absently playing with the drawstring of his sweats. "I think I prefer you like this," he says, "and I can take care of myself."

That gets him a sleepy, affectionate grin. Lúcio sits up just enough to drag the hem of his sweatpants down and then falls back, pulling Genji after. "C'mere, then."

Shoving his pants the rest of the way off, Genji settles across his thighs and leans over, a thoughtful expression on his face. Lúcio tugs him down, hands cupping his jaw as Genji shuts his eyes, lowers his forehead to Lúcio's chest and grinds down on the curve of his hip, building heat and friction until he spills himself on that flat, lean stomach, muffling a groan into his collar. _Efficient_ , Lúcio thinks fondly, _as always_. 

Genji collapses, draping himself gingerly over Lúcio's body and turning his head to press his lips to his temple, mumbling a soft 'welcome home' into his ear.

"Messy," Lúcio laughs.

Genji pushes himself up on his hands after a minute and leans in for a quick kiss. He pulls away with a pointed lick along Lúcio's bottom lip. "I'll clean it."

"Hey, wait!" Lúcio moves Genji's head away from his stomach, pinching his cheeks. "That doesn't get it much cleaner," he says, trying to sound serious and failing miserably. He briefly considers taking the joke to its logical conclusion-- a lecture about how much bacteria exists inside a human mouth-- but decides against it when Genji turns his head and nuzzles his palm.

"I _just_ showered," Genji complains.

"I did too." Lúcio's next sentence is accompanied by a sly, inviting grin. "Wouldn't mind another one if you're up for it, though."

Later, washed and changed, they stumble back to bed. Lúcio puts up his hair, removes his prosthetics and waits for Genji to settle in under the covers before he shuffles close. Yawning, he slings one leg across Genji's and tucks his head under the other man's chin. They wake up like this; Lúcio decided weeks ago that they might as well go to sleep like this too. 

"How was the night shift?" asks Genji, one arm curling around him and pulling him closer, the other sliding under his pillow.

"Slow," Lúcio murmurs back, palm flat against Genji's chest. "They're all saving up for tomorrow."

"Ngh. Don't remind me." Genji's hand settles on the small of Lúcio's back, gentle stroking of his thumb along the ridge of spine belying the resigned tone of his voice. He sighs as Lúcio's nose fits itself into the curve behind his jaw and under his ear, soft lips quirking into a smile against his neck. Genji's breathing quickly evens out and his grip slackens; so close, Lúcio can make out the rhythm of his heart, feel it beating under his hand. 

He closes his eyes, composing a melody set to 50 BPM right up until he finally falls asleep.

* * *

Sol is packed on New Year's Eve, both lunch and dinner. Lúcio wakes to an empty apartment and drags his feet to work, over a hundred covers already on the books for lunch and triple that number for dinner. Gabe and the others have been at work since seven in the morning, bulking up on sauces and prep. By the time Lúcio and Sombra show up, ready to set up the front, Genji's already working on the staff meal with D.Va. Rice and beans as per usual, roasted chicken for protein. Salad. Tiny celebratory souffle cups of flan, courtesy of Mei. Lúcio internally makes a note to eat later, privately aware that if he doesn't remember, he probably won't be able to eat until the lunch rush is over.

Hana's family had reserved a table for the night; everyone but her knows. The crew's set up cameras in the restaurant for the season finale-- one behind each station, one above the stoves, several in the dining room, but no actual operators allowed in the kitchen, Gabe having prohibited them from distracting the chefs and runners on the busiest night of the year. Lúcio makes his usual rounds with coffee and water for everyone (mostly pretense for making sure Genji's properly caffeinated, as he likes to be) before he sets Tracer on polishing glasses and folding napkins. 

Mei passes him a small slice of tres leches with a sly wink, the treat dutifully eaten in one bite; Genji tosses him a steaming tamale (as per the restaurant's theme: with a lamb bolognese filling) as he breezes by. Lúcio heads for the computer next, tallying their reservations and scanning for familiar names as he eats, noting special dessert requests and printing copies to pass on to Mei. 

Lunch is busy but not overwhelming, mise en place remaining for dinner though Reyes, Genji and Hanzo spend most of the lull scrambling to replenish stations and prepare backups. With their knifework and speed, the three of them even have time to eat before the dinner crew trickles in, roping Lúcio into a quick meeting while all four of them wolf down reheated leftovers from the morning family meal.

Zenyatta greets Lúcio and Lena as he comes in through the restaurant's front doors, weaving his way around tables and chairs until he reaches the kitchen. He follows up in measured order with Reyes, Hanzo, Pharah and Mei before finally approaching Genji. "Chef," he says, cheerfully allowing Genji to pull him under an arm, "good afternoon."

"Greetings," Genji answers, bumping him with a hip as Zenyatta leans over to check the ingredients prepared for the pasta station. "You should be set up," he says, "but I would recommend having more backups on hand. Lunch was busy, and dinner will be worse."

Zenyatta nods, slinging his knife bag off his shoulder and tucking it in a small alcove under the counter as Genji steps around him. "Understood," he says, taking a paper towel and pulling a pen from his back pocket to begin making a list. He moves with a deliberate calm, movements fluid but paced-- Genji'd been shocked at first that someone who moves at his speed could produce so much in so little time, but after months of working beside him, the complete lack of wasted movement became apparent: Zenyatta doesn't twitch a single finger more than he has to, though he still flashes Genji a wide, beaming smile. "Thank you!"

"If you need anything," Genji murmurs, knowing that Zenyatta rarely if ever asks for help, "let me know." He leaves the younger man with a light clap to his shoulder and heads through a swinging door to descend a set of stairs into the basement prep kitchen. Hanzo's back is turned (perfect opportunity to snap a towel against the seat of his pants) and Mei's slowly adding eggs to the industrial-sized mixer in the pastry corner. Pharah ducks around him, her knife held carefully at her side to avoid cutting him as she ducks into a walk-in refrigerator for a handful of herbs.

In the brief lull between the entire dinner crew arriving and the start of service, Reyes beckons Genji toward a far corner of the kitchen, heel tapping as his sous approaches. "So," he says, "Ana's coming in tonight."

"A two top," Genji confirms, wiping his hands on a towel slung over his apron string. "Maybe with Reinhardt?"

"Hanzo's on production," says Reyes, eyes flickering to the clipboard in his hand, "so I want you to get eyes on everything that goes to their table before it hits the pass. Seven-thirty."

Ana Amari, a notoriously tough food critic who'd served with Reyes when they were younger, leading a United Nations task force before they retired from military life. She'd never reviewed Sol, calling it her only refuge from the pressures of food journalism. Genji rubs his chin, idly recalling the gentle teasing she'd turn on him whenever she'd come out for dinner, then tallying the number of special reservations on the books. "That's a lot of VIPs tonight, chef."

"Yeah, you're telling me." Gabe checks the clock, leaning heavily on the counter beside him as he looks around the prep area. "Lena's out at nine," he says, "Hana's finishing up then too. We're all staying to close."

"No problem."

"You got a handle on things upstairs?"

"Mm."

"Alright," Gabe sighs, pushing off the table and bumping Genji's shoulder with his own as he heads for his office, a small room set off from the rest of the kitchen, "I'll be here."

In the meantime, Genji makes his way to Pharah, leaning across the stainless steel prep table and waiting for her to look up from her cutting board. "Captain Amari is coming in tonight," he says at the inquisitive expression on her face. She rarely talks about her mother, and as far as Genji can tell they're not in regular contact. The mutual affection between them aside, Ana never did approve of her career choice-- not for lack of respect for the profession, but heartache for the cuts and burns every linecook inevitably sustains. 

"I know," Fareeha answers, flashing him a smile. "She told me yesterday."

"Anything in mind for her?"

Fareeha sweeps a small pile of minced parsley into a pan and reaches for another handful of picked leaves. "She knows the menu," Pharah says, "but my mother always had a sweet tooth."

Nodding, Genji pulls away with a wink. "I will speak with Mei."

"Thanks, Genji."

Genji spins on his heel (narrowly avoiding a collision with Lena as she ducks behind him) and snaps off a cheeky salute. "Anything for you."

Fareeha's immediate, exaggerated eyeroll makes him laugh, and she waits for him to turn away before flashing a crooked smile at the back of his head.

* * *

Seven o'clock rolls around and an already-busy service turns downright brutal, even Lúcio unable to space out the tickets enough to avoid overwhelming the kitchen, Sol's dining room bustling with the murmur of guests, the clinking of silverware against plates. Hanzo even steps onto the line, leaving a whole fish unbutchered on ice in the prep kitchen to help Pharah on the grill, bouncing between hers and McCree's stations to pick up the slack whenever an order's dragged on a few minutes too long. Genji sticks to Hana and Zenyatta, plating their finished food as needed, eyes on both their stations as they work appetizers and pastas. 

"Amari's at table 82," Gabe announces as Ana's order ticket prints, and he ducks around the line to catch a glance at the pastry section. "You get that, Mei?"

Lúcio ducks into the kitchen to confirm that Reyes had received the ticket just in time to hear Mei's callback of, "Yes chef!"

On the line, Genji momentarily leaves Zenyatta to sidle in next to Hana, glancing at the eight or so tickets on her board-- and more printing on her machine. Her movements are rushed, callbacks weak, hands going at nowhere near the same blinding speed she usually manages. Then again, he considers, she's never worked when it's been this busy before, and Genji stops her with a hand to the shoulder. "Song-kun," he says when she looks at him, her brows furrowed, "what do you do when you are tilted?"

Reyes stops calling Hana's tickets, instead moving to the other end of the line, tapping Jesse to fry a few extra portions of sweet plantains to keep Hana's tables occupied while they wait for their appetizers. Hana blinks twice, realization dawning on her face. "Oh," she says, taking a deep breath and using that moment to pull the tickets for plates she'd already sent out, then stick the next few in order on the board. "Okay."

"What do you have fired?" Genji asks, too focused to catch Lúcio watching him from across the room.

"Four guacamole," Hana rattles off as Genji reaches into the cooler under her station for plates, "three bass ceviche, two octopus, two shrimp. One caprese, two elotes."

Genji places six plates on her counter, passes her three small metal mixing bowls, takes four avocado halves off the grill plate on her stove and turns two cobs of corn on another to cook their unheated sides. "What haven't you started?"

"The ceviches. I still have to put on two more avocadoes."

"Finish the ceviche," Genji tells her, a calm presence as he opens a drawer and extracts four more pre-cut avocado halves, placing them face-down on the grill. "One octopus and one shrimp first," he adds, grabbing a spoon from Zenyatta's tool collection as he scoops the flesh out and into another mixing bowl, "before chef bites our heads off."

Lúcio backs out of the kitchen, sidestepping Ana as she comes in. He gives her a quick greeting before he returns to the front, called to deal with some belligerent guest. 

"I see your problem children are shaping up," Ana says, a sly smile on her face as she plants herself next to Gabe, waiting for a lull in food and tickets before she allows him to pull her into a quick hug. "If I don't have a chance, tell Fareeha that I'm proud of her, would you?"

"Sure," Gabe sighs, then blinks and looks at her. "Wait," he says as Ana covers her mouth, almost doubling over to hide her laughter, " _problem children_?"

Ana's eyes linger on Fareeha as she slides two plates of whole, grilled fish across the pass and Gabe sends them to their tables, the way she meets every one of McCree's playful jabs with a retort of her own. She and Jesse look at Ana, as if sensing her gaze, and both of them wave. Genji leaves Hana with a significantly reduced backlog of food and a quick word of encouragement, rejoining Zenyatta on the next station to start clearing _his_ board as well. Ana grins, her expression proud. "You know what I meant, Gabriel."

"Yeah, they're doing alright." Gabe scratches his chin, giving Genji a nod of approval when the younger man looks up before he turns to regard McCree. "Jesse's been due for a promotion," he murmurs, "but he keeps turning me down."

"I think he needs a bit of stability for now." Ana glances up at Gabe, taking note of his slow nod, a soft agreement with her assessment. "Fareeha, however..."

A smirk. "Hanzo's gonna start training her for sous after the holiday rush."

"She didn't tell me," Ana says.

Reyes cocks his head to the side, fixes her with a pointed stare. "Hours are longer," he replies. "She doesn't want you worrying."

"A mother will worry regardless." Sighing, Ana puts a hand on his arm and squeezes. "Keep an eye on her for me, would you Gabriel?"

"I will."

"Thank you."

"Hey," he says after a moment, escorting her to the kitchen door as Lena picks up two orders of tamales and ferries them to the dining room, "go enjoy your dinner."

"Oh, I always do."

* * *

The rush eventually slows, pace a manageable busy instead of overwhelmingly slammed. Genji, Hanzo and Jesse have begun to list against their nearest counters, all three of them having been at work for nearly fourteen hours. Reyes stands in front of the pass, equally exhausted but spine straight and shoulders back. He eyes the clock, a pair of tickets labeled 'FO OXTON' and 'FO SONG' inching out of the machine as they print. Lena hasn't been in the dining room for nearly five minutes, occupied for the moment with getting water for everyone on the line while Lúcio holds down the front. Even Sombra's been stepping out from behind the bar to help, complaining about it every time.

"Oxton," Gabe says, canting his head toward the dining room when Lena looks up, "get changed. You're done for today."

Lena glances into the dining room, a skeptical expression on her face. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, we don't need you here." Lúcio's worked busier services on his own, and Zarya's already volunteered to step in, if needed. After the holiday season, a bit of extra pocket change wouldn't hurt. "And," adds Gabe with a small quirk of his lip, "we've got someone asking for you at table 405."

Tracer's mouth drops open. "Emily?"

"Get outta here."

Gabe only smiles as Lena dashes out of the kitchen and through the door leading downstairs, toward the changing room. Next he drags Genji by the string of his apron away from the espresso machine to nudge him pointedly toward Hana's station, pulling her ticket and showing it to him. "Song-kun," Genji says, taking the hint, ruffling her hat and bumping her with his hip, "you too. Go to the front, they'll show you to your table."

Hana narrows her eyes at him, an avocado-covered spoon in her hand, stains on her apron and the stiff collar of her chef's whites. "My table? Are you sure you can handle things here, chef?"

"Are you saying I can't handle appetizers?" Genji retorts immediately.

"Well--"

A face pops up in the small window that looks onto the dining room, a girl around D.Va's age beaming into the kitchen. "Could someone," she says, "please ask Hana to hurry up?"

Genji ducks around the pass to stick his head out into the dining room, beckoning the newcomer inside. "Lee Mina," he says with a wry grin, "you might as well get used to being back here."

Hana stays frozen in place, her eyes wide. She absently allows Genji to take the spoon and mixing bowl out of her hands to finish the order but looks at him, as if asking for permission to leave her station. At his nod, she turns to Mina, bouncing on the balls of her feet as they first look very thoroughly at each other, then collide in an ecstatic hug. "Unni?!"

"You're a mess," Mina complains jokingly as they jump, arms still wrapped tightly around each other, "your apron's all dirty, do you want me to be as filthy as you through dinner? Are you gonna get an idol all dirty before dinner? Will you replace my shirt?"

"What are you doing here?!" Hana practically shouts, thankfully blocked from the guests by the wall partition, whatever makes it through drowned out by the noise outside. "How long are you staying?"

Mina laughs as they break apart, hands catching, and they swing their arms in unison. "Guess who's joining you for season two!"

Hana looks around the kitchen, activity slowed but not stopped. McCree, Pharah, Zenyatta and Mei flash her wide grins; Genji, Hanzo and Reyes already back to work. "Am I the only one who didn't know?" she demands, looking indignant. Mina laughs, bumping her lightly with a shoulder before she ducks out of the kitchen and back to her table. 

"Surprise," Genji tells Hana, motioning toward the dining room with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Get changed and go have dinner," he says, setting three plates of beautifully plated ceviche in the window for Reyes to send out to a table, "your family will not be here long, and you did well today." 

Taking a moment to make her round through the kitchen and wish everyone a good night and happy new year, Hana breezes out to join her family for dinner. 

The rest of the night passes quickly; Gabe sends complimentary appetizers and desserts to Ana's, Lena's and Hana's tables, drawing none of the usual complaints from Genji that he might have voiced if it were anyone else. The last order of food comes twenty before midnight, well after their VIPs have left. Cleanup proceeds slowly, every one of the cooks exhausted after a long night, but eyes on the clock as it ticks down the last few minutes before the new year. 

At 11:45, Lúcio trudges into the kitchen, his shoulders drooping in exhaustion. He pauses next to Reyes in front of the pass, watching Genji grill off his extra avocadoes and Hanzo toss handfuls of cut tortillas into the fryer. Fareeha cuts the pre-seared steaks left over from service, unusable for the next day, into a small dice. Zenyatta chops tomatoes and an onion, a small bunch of cilantro, and several limes. McCree salts the chips as they come out of the fryer, layering them with Pharah's steak, Genji's guacamole, Zenyatta's pico de gallo, cheese and beans from his own station. He saves enough of the toppings and chips for an extra plate, no steak on top -- for Zenyatta.

"Food's up," McCree announces, setting the massive hotel pan of nachos on the counter. "Totally authentic," he adds with a cheeky grin at Reyes, "real Mexican and Italian we're cookin' here, tonight."

"Shut up," Gabe grunts, making his way around the pass to join them on the line and take the first bite. Lúcio turns on his heels, locs whipping as he ducks out of the kitchen and toward the bar. He returns with half a dozen quarts of spiked limeade, grinning as he presses one into Genji's hand and takes one for himself. The dining room falls quiet, a steady countdown to twelve o'clock beginning in the last minute.

"Limonada suíça," Lúcio murmurs as Genji tries a sip, then quickly takes a significantly longer drink. "Good, yeah? I know you like honey, so I used that instead of sugar--"

"Limonada dos Santos," Genji snickers, good-naturedly taking the elbow Lúcio throws into his ribs before slinging an arm around his waist and reeling him against his own side. "It's delicious, Lúcio."

From across the kitchen, Hanzo pops the cork off two bottles of champagne. Jesse fills two dozen plastic flutes and distributes them to the runners, servers and cooks. Sombra raises a glass of her own from behind the bar, miming a toast with Lúcio. 

Tugging on Genji's sleeve as the countdown draws closer to zero, Lúcio smiles up at him, a sympathetic expression on his face. "Hey," he says softly, "I know you were supposed to get off early today. You tired?"

Genji sets down his drink, wraps both arms around Lúcio's waist and pulls him close, leaning down for a kiss. "I can think of no better way to begin a new year," he murmurs as cheers erupt from the dining room, from the staff around them, "than to spend it with you."

The kitchen falls away, sounds drowned under the rush of blood in his ears, Genji's breath over his lips. "You're a sweet talker," Lúcio retorts, trying to inflect his words with the usual affectionate bite but only mustering a sigh as he fits the top of his head easily under Genji's chin, "but are you gonna back that up later?"

A laugh. Genji holds him tighter, presses his cheek to Lúcio's temple. "Don't I always?"

**Author's Note:**

> mina lee is [@clooovers](http://www.clooovers.tumblr.com)/hawkquisitor's character & i love her <3


End file.
